


Expertise

by Alethia



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Brothels, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Loss of Virginity, Porn, Pre-Canon, Pre-Season/Series 01, Vulcan Culture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:14:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28450752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alethia/pseuds/Alethia
Summary: Chris smiled, kind. "Come for a drink?" he asked, thinking maybe she'd wandered into this bar by chance, unaware of the other services it offered.Her eyes flicked to his whisky, the corners of her lips turning down. "Alcohol consumption is illogical. I am here seeking a night of professional companionship. The host at my lodgings indicated this was a venue for such things."Chris blinked, a little taken aback. "Well, that's...direct," he said, not quite sure where to start.
Relationships: Michael Burnham/Christopher Pike
Comments: 51
Kudos: 145





	Expertise

**Author's Note:**

> I was contemplating Risan sex workers for another story (like you do) and realized that for 23-year-old virgin Michael, very confused by human socializing on the _Shenzhou_ , the most logical thing to do would be to engage a professional. Because if you're going to do something, get an expert to help you do it _right_. So then this happened. 
> 
> Pre-series, set in late 2249 or early 2250. It's basically 21 pages of porn. Happy 2021?

Chris nursed his whisky, ensconced at the imposing bar, its dark wood gleaming in the low lights. The bar stool underneath him was plush, done in a deep red leather, like the booths around the room, everything classy and understated. He ignored the low murmur of the conversations taking place around him, a flirtatious edge to it all, workers entering from the imposing double doors at the back, occasionally leading patrons back with them. 

The blond curls of the hostess glinted in the lights as she moved from booth to booth, making sure everyone was being properly taken care of. She caught his eye again, lifting a brow in question, but Chris shook his head. He was fine. Alone. Like he'd probably end up.

But he had his career. It was fine. 

He glanced up when the front doors opened—

And _stared_. 

A young woman stood on the precipice, looking around the room clinically, determination fierce in her expression, covering a deep well of uncertainty. She was maybe 25 and _stunning_ —dark skin that glowed in the lights as she stepped further into the bar, the doors shutting behind her, a jawline that his fingers itched to trace, keen dark eyes taking in everything. Her slim figure was draped in a dark green tunic over trousers, the only decoration to it some geometric folds of fabric, but with the way the tunic skimmed her body, it must be handmade, tailored to her. It spoke of a well-to-do upbringing, the kind that didn't flaunt itself, but also wasn't hiding. 

What was a woman like _that_ doing in a bar like _this_?

Chris watched as a line appeared between her eyes, like she had ginned up the courage to come here, but now didn't quite know what to do with herself. She took another few steps into the room, nearing the bar absently, looking lost. 

Ah, what the hell. 

"First time here?" he asked, pitching his voice low enough that it wouldn't carry to the booths beyond, but would get her attention, draw her in. 

The woman's eyes _snapped_ to him, a calculating glint there. Not malicious, but there was clearly a _mind_ at work within, the woman analyzing everything. She stepped up to the bar, a few stools down from him, gaze even on his. "Yes," she said, voice matter-of-fact, like they both knew the truth, no use prevaricating. 

Chris smiled, kind. "Come for a drink?" he asked, thinking maybe she'd wandered into this bar by chance, unaware of the other services it offered. 

Her eyes flicked to his whisky, the corners of her lips turning down. "Alcohol consumption is illogical. I am here seeking a night of professional companionship. The host at my lodgings indicated this was a venue for such things."

Chris blinked, a little taken aback. "Well, that's...direct," he said, not quite sure where to start. 

But...professional companionship? A woman who looked like _that_? She should have all manner of potential bedmates falling over themselves to get to her. Why would she opt for a pro?

Frustration flitted across her expression, instantly covered. The expert way she did it made Chris think it was a common occurrence. "My apologies. Though I am human, I did not grow up among them. I am told I can be...blunt."

Chris waved it away, flashing a smile at her. "It's refreshing. So where'd you grow up?"

"Vulcan."

He whistled, low. "I can't imagine there are a lot of human children raised on Vulcan," he said, curious. 

"Very few. The only one I interacted with was my foster-brother, though he was half-human and devoted himself entirely to his Vulcan heritage." She said it with no inflection, but he could read a _world_ of emotion underneath, a struggle within herself she clearly couldn't reconcile. 

At glimpse of it, he suddenly _ached_ for her, a lone human raised among Vulcans, now trying to acclimate to human social interaction. "It must have been very challenging," he said, sympathy in his voice. "And now people find you blunt."

She swallowed, looking almost like she was bracing herself. "Living among humans has been...more than I anticipated," she said, voice even. 

Chris nodded, offering her a wry smile. "We're a messy, emotional bunch."

" _Yes_ ," she said, emphatic. "Exactly."

He shot her a reassuring look. "You'll get the hang of it."

Her uncertainty welled again—like she really wasn't sure of that at all. "My captain said I should use my shore leave to engage in small talk, seeking out new people so I can practice my social skills."

Chris' interest piqued. Shore leave? Did that mean she was Starfleet? But given the relatively personal admission, he didn't want to derail her, so he just nodded. "Your captain gave you some good advice." He gestured around them at the bar, raising an eyebrow. "You said you're seeking professional companionship?"

Something complex flickered in her expression, but she nodded. "Philippa disagreed, but I believe it's the best course of action."

Chris blinked at the sentiment, but before he could dig in on that, the name landed. "Philippa? Captain Philippa Georgiou?"

She looked at him, seeming taken aback. "Yes."

Chris grinned. "My god, the galaxy is tiny. I haven't seen Pippa in years. How the hell is she?" At her surprised look, Chris shook himself. "Sorry. Commander Christopher Pike, with the _Enterprise_." He stuck out a hand. 

She just looked at it, like she didn't understand. 

Right, Vulcans. She probably didn't. "First lesson in admittedly antiquated human social practices," he offered, slowly reaching over to take her right hand, placing it in his and shaking once, his skin tingling where they touched. "The handshake. A classic greeting, meant to show one is unarmed and welcoming."

Her dark eyes drank it in. "Fascinating." Then she shook herself, meeting his eyes, finally taking a seat at the bar. "Ensign Michael Burnham, _USS Shenzhou_."

"Pleased to meet you, Michael," he said with a smile, tipping his drink at her and taking a sip. 

Some kind of recognition sparked in her eyes. She tilted her head. "Commander Pike."

Chris shook his head. "We're off duty and on leave. It's just Chris, please."

"No, that's not—Philippa mentioned you," Michael clarified, like she was trying to remember. "Did she offer you XO?"

He nodded. "A few years back, yeah. But as a friend put it, 'when you're offered XO on the _Enterprise_ , you take XO on the _Enterprise_ , for actual fuck's sake, Chris.'" He grinned. Then he shook his head. "Funny to think. If I'd gone the other way with it, we could be serving together."

"We may yet," she pointed out, reasonable. 

"Cheers to that," he said, raising his drink again. 

"Are you also on leave?" she asked, curious, but almost tentative, like she wanted to know more, but wasn't sure her questions would be welcome. Practicing her small talk. 

Inexplicable fondness swept through him. "Forcibly. Though if you're asking why I'm sitting in a brothel _bar_ , it's because my friends think they're hilarious and decided to play a little joke on me, then abandoned me in favor of that companionship you're after."

"And you're...not after it," she said, intrigued, like she was trying to figure him out.

"Nah, not my style. But wait, what was Philippa disagreeing with you about?"

Michael frowned, like the disagreement weighed on her. "She thinks I should have sex with someone I like, but it seems doubtful I'll meet that person anytime soon. Besides, when seeking out new experiences it's only logical to engage experts. I fail to understand her objection."

_Jesus. Fucking. Christ._

Chris knew he was staring, but he was having trouble schooling his expression. "You're a—" he cut himself off and redirected, not wanting it to come across as judgmental, "You've never had sex?" he asked, unable to help the disbelief coloring his voice. 

Didn't anyone in the galaxy realize she looked like _that_?

She tilted her head, like this should be obvious. "Vulcans are touch-telepaths. As a human, I could never engage in that kind of intimacy." 

"And you've recently joined a human crew," he said slowly, understanding the shape of this. 

Frustration flared in her expression, followed by uncertainty, then embarrassment. "Much of the socialization on ship revolves around sexual activity, even if just in discourse. I find myself...lost," she admitted, like it troubled her. "Having sex seems like the logical solution."

Chris swallowed, understanding that on a gut level. The lower decks was essentially a bacchanalia, a bunch of randy twentysomethings stuck together for long stretches of time, with endless pent-up sexual energy and nowhere to exorcise it but with each other. Michael getting dropped into that straight from a life on Vulcan...yeah. Lost was one word for it. 

"I see," he said, keeping his tone neutral.

Michael narrowed her eyes, studying him. "You also disagree?"

Chris shrugged. "I understand both sides. Pippa isn't wrong. In an ideal world, you could explore sex with someone you liked. But if you're going for efficiency, I understand seeking out a professional."

She frowned. "I don't understand why a professional is not the better choice regardless."

"Sex isn't just physical, Michael," he said, quiet. "I mean, it is physical, obviously, but as you're experiencing, humans are emotional. Sex is better when it's with someone you like." 

"You're saying sex is...more pleasurable with an emotional connection," she said slowly, like she was trying to be sure. 

"Yes."

Her brow stayed furrowed. "I don't understand. An orgasm is an orgasm."

Chris huffed a laugh, struck by the absurdity. How the _hell_ had he ended up in this conversation? "It's a deeper kind of satisfaction," he said, trying to capture it. How did you explain the sense of connection, that soul-deep intimacy, to someone who'd never experienced it?

Michael's eyes flickered. "My research contains mentions of an emotional component, but the scholarship on it is frustratingly vague."

Christ, _of course_ she had done research. Probably read all manner of scientific studies. He'd bet his command she could list the elevated neurochemicals caused by orgasm. Probably in alphabetical order. 

"Quantify love," he said, light. "Sometimes, research can only tell you so much."

"I've noticed." She sat back, shrewd eyes studying him. "Is that why you're in a brothel _not_ seeking professional companionship? You would rather abstain than engage in only physical release?"

Good Lord, the directness. He opened his mouth, no _idea_ how to respond to that—

"Chris," a stern voice called from behind. A stern voice he _recognized_. 

Shit. 

He turned, finding Kat coming out of the interior double doors, wearing a form-fitting blue dress, her hair mussed. He lifted his drink in a toast. "Kat. I'd say 'good evening,' but it looks like you're way ahead of me there."

She paused by the bar and raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "This is literally the last place I'd expect to find you."

"Oh, I dunno. I can think of a few other places. A cage fight? Maybe an Orion slave auction?" he quipped. 

Kat narrowed her eyes. "And now for the real answer."

Chris shook his head. "Leland and Vela think they're comedians."

"You'd have to be funny for that."

"You'd think," he said, exasperated. 

Kat's eyes flicked to Michael and right, introductions were in order. He turned, gesturing to her. "Ensign Michael Burnham, meet Commodore Katrina Cornwell."

Recognition flashed in Kat's eyes. "Burnham, right. Georgiou is pleased with your progress."

Michael stilled, then nodded, once. "My performance has been adequate."

Kat blinked. Chris smiled a little. "Michael was raised on Vulcan," he put in helpfully. 

Kat nodded, slow. "Yes, I recall." She looked to Michael. "Do give my regards to your foster father when you speak to him." Then she turned back to Chris. "As for you...you don't look like a man who just got good news."

Chris scoffed and held up his drink pointedly. "I'm celebrating."

"You're two fingers deep in a brothel bar," she said, voice flat. 

Chris flicked his eyes down her frame, then up again. " _You're_ two fingers deep in a brothel bar," he shot back. "Maybe more than two fingers," he added, saucy. 

Kat narrowed her eyes. "The difference is I enjoy the company of professionals and you do not."

Chris gestured around them, to the now mostly-empty bar. "Do you see any professionals?"

"Come see _me_. Tomorrow," she decided, not even pretending to make it a request. 

He sighed, then saluted her with his drink. "Aye, Commodore."

Kat frowned, but let it go. "Good. I'll let you have your night." She looked to Michael, nodding once. "Nice to meet you, Ensign. I'm sure I'll be seeing you more." Then she looked back to him, tipping her head thoughtfully. "Chris," she said in farewell. 

"Kat," he returned, watching as she nodded again and headed out of the bar. 

Chris sipped at his drink, not relishing Kat's impending inquisition, seeing right through him as she always did. He wondered how she dealt with the loneliness. Maybe he'd find his way to asking. 

He felt Michael's eyes on him, so he turned and tossed her a half-smile. "Bet you regret coming to the fancy brothel now."

"In hindsight, it follows that the brothel recommended to Starfleet officers would contain multiple Starfleet officers," Michael said, even. She tilted her head. "Your friends brought you here to celebrate good news?"

"A celebration and a gentle dig in one." He shrugged. "They multitask."

"Fascinating," she said. Chris got the sense she said that a lot. 

That was when the hostess appeared, skillfully interrupting in a way that didn't feel intrusive. "Good evening," she greeted Michael, her smile welcoming, blue eyes gentle. "Forgive the interruption. We want to make sure all our guests are satisfied. Were you looking for anything more than conversation with the gentleman?"

Michael blinked at her, clearly not getting it. 

Chris leaned in. "She's who you talk to about professional companionship," he offered, blunt. 

The hostess' eyes flicked to him, a flash of surprise there. Chris just shot her a grin, enjoying cutting through all the euphemistic bullshit. How was it described, bracing Vulcan honesty? He could get on board. "Subtlety isn't your friend here," he advised the hostess. 

She looked back to Michael just as Michael tilted her head in question. "How does it...work?" she asked, that earlier uncertainty back. 

"You tell me what you're interested in and I ensure you receive it," the hostess explained, patient. 

The problem being, of course, that Michael clearly had no idea what that meant. "I want sex," she tried, like that would clear anything up. 

Jesus, it was like watching a train wreck. 

The hostess' smile turned rueful for a moment, but she immediately covered and nodded, encouraging. "Indeed. Any particular kind? Species preference? Age? Male? Female? Other?"

Michael blinked, like she hadn't realized there was such a breadth of choice involved. "Human?" she offered, like a question. "Male," she said, more sure on that. 

The hostess nodded again, her blond curls swaying around her admittedly-lovely face. "We have many human male options. Can you tell me what else you like?"

Michael shook her head, floundering. Sympathy swept through Chris. He turned to look at the hostess, gentling his voice. "Can you show her the lookbook?" he asked, trying to be helpful. "Perhaps if the lady could see her options."

The hostess inclined her head, a grateful glint to her eye. "Of course. I will return momentarily." She glided away, graceful, hips swaying. 

Michael kept steady eyes on Chris, something confused there. "What did she mean when she asked what kind of sex? Isn't it just...sex?"

Chris raised an eyebrow; her research should have covered this. "Sex isn't just one thing. There are different varieties. People have different preferences."

"You mean kinks," Michael said, like she was reading out of a book. "Pain, domination, bondage—"

"Okay," Chris interrupted, holding up a hand. "Yes, to all of that and more, but—correct me if I'm wrong—I don't think you're looking for anything specialized."

"That's right."

Chris nodded. "After you look through the options, you should tell her that you've never done this before and need someone appropriate. Then you should tell him."

Michael nodded, intent, like she was making a mental list. 

A little voice niggling in the back of his mind started going at that, liking having her focus on him. He ignored it.

The hostess swept back in and handed Michael a PADD with a kind, "Come find me if you see anything you like." Then she was gone again, Michael staring down at the PADD, her brow furrowed again. She swiped through, image after image, focused, but not seeming turned on or relishing or anything he would expect from someone about to have sex. 

Leland and Vela had both looked downright gleeful as they perused the "menu." From Michael, all he got was vague consideration. 

"Do you _want_ to have sex?" he asked, curious. 

Michael looked up, startling him with her dark eyes, so inviting, so without artifice. "I want to have _had_ sex," she said, seeming sure of that. 

"There's a distinction." 

Michael looked back to the PADD, the light hitting her jaw just right, casting her lips in shadow. Chris shifted, trying to shut down the interest she stirred in him. 

He was _interested_. 

She sighed and looked up at him, setting the PADD on the bar. "Is my selection just based on appearance?"

"Well, yeah. If you find someone attractive, you should choose them."

"But I don't know any of them. Attraction is a result of personality as well as physical attributes, is it not?"

Chris nodded. "Sure, but you're not going to know any of them, so all you have is the physical."

"They all look like attractive human males. I don't know what distinguishes one from another," she said, pausing in contemplation. "I did not think this process would be so inexact."

Chris regarded her, sympathetic. "I think you'll find that sex and exactitude don't necessarily go hand in hand."

She sighed again and turned her attention back to the PADD, like the pictures would suddenly change and it would all make sense to her. Chris watched as she swiped through, her expression never flickering in interest. 

"If you want," he said slowly, kicking himself even as he said it, "I could step in."

Michael stopped looking at the PADD and blinked at him. "You're offering to have sex with me," she said, like she was just checking.

"Yes," he said, heart starting to beat faster, senses coming alive at the glint in her eye. 

"Are you an expert?" she asked, curious. 

Chris flushed. He hadn't expected her to question his _sexual bona fides_. Still, he kept his eyes on hers. "Well, I'm not a professional," he acknowledged. "But I'm—I'm good. I've had much praise and no complaints."

"But why would you want to have sex with me?" she asked, like she couldn't imagine it. 

Jesus, this bracing Vulcan honesty. "I find you very attractive," he admitted, seeing that land, a faint air of embarrassment blooming around her. "I think you're smart. I like you. And beyond that, several of my friends have had lackluster first times and it colored their perceptions of sex. I'd like to make it good for you. I think I could. If you want," he offered, flailing to the finish, but in his defense, he'd never had a conversation about sex quite like this. 

Michael stared at him for a moment, unblinking. 

Chris held his breath, gut roiling, and let her look her fill.

Finally, she nodded, once. "That is acceptable." His heart pounded in his chest as she set the PADD aside, looking to him in earnest. "How is this best accomplished?"

Chris knocked back his drink, feeling the burn as he swallowed, wishing it would calm the newfound nerves that had sprung up. "I have a room," he finally offered, taking a careful breath. 

Michael nodded again, resolute. "You should take me there."

***

Chris let Michael into his room and it was literally nothing like any other time he'd brought a woman home with him. She seemed wildly uninterested in sex, taking in his temporary quarters like she was more interested in interior decorating than orgasms. 

Still, from their conversation, Chris gathered she had very different reactions to things. For all he knew, she could be burning with passion and just not showing it. 

Though, somehow, he doubted it. 

"Your quarters are expansive," she said, moving over to the sliding door that led to the small balcony, the two suns setting over the ocean in the distance lighting the horizon on fire. 

"Yeah, Leland did well there," he agreed, opening the door so she could step outside. He followed her out, liking the nip of the cooler air around him. 

Michael stared at the horizon, the sunsets painting her in reds and golds. _Gorgeous_. She turned to regard him. "Sunsets appear red and orange because of Rayleigh scattering—most of the shorter wavelengths are scattered away, leaving the longest to reach our eyes. Did you know that?"

Chris smiled and stepped closer, cupping her cheek. "I did."

She stilled at his touch, meeting his eyes steadily. "Are we going to have sex now?"

"How about we start small?" he suggested, fondness sweeping through him at her unrelenting directness. His smile slipped away as he studied her. "Have you ever been kissed?" he asked, wanting to be sure. 

Michael blinked. "No."

As he thought. 

"I don't quite see the point," she added, considering. "I understand it's a form of foreplay, but—"

Chris ran his thumb over her cheek, Michael stopping abruptly at the feeling, eyes widening a little. 

"It's a kind of intimacy," he said, low, relishing the soft skin under his fingers, gaze drifting down to her mouth, then back up to dazed eyes. 

"...oh," she said after a moment. 

Chris quirked his lips and leaned down, brushing his mouth over hers, light, once, twice, then using the hand on her cheek to tilt her head, kissing her deeper. 

Michael responded, kissing him back, slow and halting. He made a pleased noise and guided her, keeping it slow, his free arm wrapping around her to pull her close. 

She breathed out when her body pressed into his, breaking the kiss, looking up at him with a new gleam in her eyes. "Oh," she said again, seeming a shade lost. 

Chris smiled and kissed her again, harder. He nipped at her bottom lip, lapping at it lightly, but she didn't react other than to curl one hand in his shirt. 

He pulled back, keeping his voice gentle. "Open your mouth for me." Then he leaned back down and kissed her again, her mouth opening against his, enough for him to dip his tongue _in_ , brushing it against hers. 

Michael gasped against him, hands gripping tight, and he did it again, groaning at the taste of her, at the feel of her body against his, soft and hard at the same time. 

She responded, following his lead, slipping her tongue into his mouth, licking lightly. Chris moaned in pleasure, kissing her back, one hand slipping down her body, exploring.

Michael made a soft, turned-on noise into his mouth, slumping against him even as she kissed him forcefully, like she wanted more. 

Chris smiled and pulled back, dodging her mouth as she tried to follow, reveling in the heat building between them, his cock stirring at the feel of her. 

"Still don't see the point?" he asked, voice rumbling. 

Michael blinked at him. "I stand corrected," she said, breathless. Something seemed to occur to her. "You asked me before, if I wanted to have sex."

He nodded, wondering where she was going with this.

" _Now_ I want to have sex," she said, eyes bright. 

Chris smirked. "Just you wait." He pressed their mouths together, a slow slide, then pulled back. "Let's go inside," he said, voice still low. "It's getting chilly."

Michael looked around like she had forgotten they _were_ outside, the setting suns lower now, only a glimmer of light on the horizon. She nodded. 

Chris led her in, sliding the door closed behind them, then shutting the curtains for good measure. He didn't need anyone looking on. 

Michael stood in the middle of the room, attentive, like she didn't know what to do, but was trying not to show it. 

He held out a hand, waiting until she reached out and took it. Once she did, he pulled her close, bringing their mouths together again. 

Michael sighed into the kiss, melting against him, moving with him as he alternated small kisses and little nips. 

Chris backed her into the bedroom, kissing her all the while, Michael making a noise of surprise when the back of her legs hit the bed. She broke the kiss, looking down, then looked around at the bedroom, like she didn't know how they'd gotten there. 

"Kissing impairs my situational awareness," she said idly, like this interested her. 

Chris grinned. "I choose to take that as a compliment."

Michael regarded him, even, despite her kiss-swollen lips. "You should. Shall we undress now?" Her hands moved to the bottom of her tunic, but Chris grabbed them, a stab of heat singing through him at the idea of getting naked with her. In time, he reminded himself. He brought her hands to his mouth and kissed her knuckles instead. 

"Hold that thought," he said, nudging her back onto the bed. 

Frowning a little, Michael sat down, watching him intently. 

"C'mon, scoot back," he said, soft, nudging her with his hands. 

She did, pushing herself back so she was reclining in the middle of the bed, eyes tracking him as he crawled after her, settling beside her, their bodies touching in a warm line. He dipped his head again to find her mouth, kissing her longer, deeper, curled over her on the bed. 

Michael kissed him back, hand sliding into his hair, pulling him firmly onto her. 

Chris caught himself on his forearm, braced above her, laughing a little into her mouth. "Impatient much?"

"I like the way you feel over me," she mumbled, like she was just realizing it herself, her free arm curling over his shoulder, holding him close. 

Chris groaned as that admission spread through him, heating his blood. He took her mouth again, settling his weight over her more, careful, but present. She arched into him and he was interested in how instinctive it was given that Michael had never done this before. Still, the press of her body against his slid heat through him, his cock filling, though he angled his hips away, not needing her to feel _that_. Yet. 

She broke away again, panting a little, staring up at him with dark eyes. "This involves more kissing than I thought."

He grinned and dipped down to nip at her mouth, once. "Yeah? How much kissing did you think there'd be?"

"A little? The videos I studied didn't emphasize kissing."

Christ. Who the hell knew what she'd been watching. Porn, probably. Like that was real. "Everyone's different," he said, nuzzling her chin. "I like kissing." He fused their mouths together again, Michael responding instantly, sweeping her tongue into his mouth with confidence now, a realization that sent a little _zing_ through him. She'd learned that with him. 

Michael pulled back to breathe against his lips. "I like it, too," she admitted, setting off another little thrill of victory within him.

He moved to kiss her again, but she shifted away a little, something shy appearing in her expression. "Can I, uhh. Can I touch you?" she asked, hand toying with a button on his shirt, hesitance in her, like she didn't know if she was doing the right thing. 

"Yes," he breathed, leaning down to kiss her once before sitting up and reaching for his buttons. 

Her soft noise stopped him, Chris looking at Michael, seeing the gleam in her eyes. "Can I—" she reached out, unbuttoning one herself, eyes looking up to him like she wanted to check if it was okay. 

Chris grinned. "Hey, I'm not gonna argue with the lady wanting to get me out of my clothes."

Michael smiled slightly and continued working on his buttons, fingers slipping underneath the blue fabric to brush against the skin she found, sending little shivers of fire all through him. 

Finally, she pushed the shirt off, staring at his body, expression blank. She lifted a hand to his chest, hesitated, then pressed her palm flat against him.

Chris breathed in at the feeling of skin to skin, her wide eyes lifting to his in something like wonder. "Feels good," he said, encouraging, wanting to be clear. 

She brought her other hand to his chest, scratching through the dark hair there, fingers exploring the dips and valleys, from his pecs down to his abs, tracing over the v-shaped line cut off by his pants. "I like this," she said, like she'd just decided. 

Chris flashed a grin and leaned in to kiss her again, mouths open, sharing taste. She responded immediately, heatedly. _Exquisite_. 

She nudged him and he fell back with a laugh, smiling as she settled over his thighs, hands exploring his chest in earnest. She dropped a kiss to his chest, looking up at him curiously. He brought a hand to her cheek, brushing his fingers there, soft. "Feel free to explore."

Michael flashed a smile and did, bending her head to kiss her way over him, fingers mapping the muscles of his chest, to his arms, down to his sides, like it was all fascinating. 

Chris groaned at the feeling, lust shivering through him at Michael's head bent over his body, her kisses shooting heat straight through him. 

Eventually, she sat up, resting her hands against his chest, almost thoughtful. "I didn't think to like this."

"Giving pleasure can be intoxicating, too," he said, covering her hands with his, a warm press of fingers. 

Michael smiled, eyes sweeping over him, catching on the very obvious bulge in his black pants. Her smile faded as she dropped a hand there, tracing over the taut material. 

Chris hissed, the gentle touches igniting _fire_ in him. He caught her hand, gently tugging it away. "Let's save that for later, yeah?"

Then he rolled her, getting a surprised yelp that thoroughly delighted him. He grinned, finding her mouth again, whispering, "My turn," against her lips as he reached for her tunic, tugging it up. 

Michael moved with him, helping, letting him pull the tunic up and off, leaving her clad in a black bra and trousers, her ribcage rising and falling with her quickened breaths. 

Chris met her eyes. "You're beautiful," he said, heartfelt, leaning down for her mouth as he let his hands wander, exploring her skin, seeing what would make her shiver. 

She fell into it for a while, shifting underneath him, moving into his hands. "Chris, please," she eventually gasped against his mouth. 

"Anything," he said, pulling back.

"Can we be naked now?" she asked, panting a little. 

He laughed, low. "Absolutely." He pulled away to kick off his shoes and shimmy out of his pants, but as he tugged off his socks his eyes strayed to Michael, his cock _pulsing_ at the sight of her, bra gone, kicking off her pants with an unselfconscious grace that caught his breath. 

Chris moved to her, catching her face, _taking_ her mouth again as he rolled her onto her back, his body sliding against hers, separated only by a few scraps of underwear. She made a high noise into his mouth, her arms curling around him as they settled against each other, heat pulsing between them. He could feel her hardened nipples against his chest, the softness of her legs tangled with his, her fingers clutching at his back. 

"So gorgeous," he mumbled, kissing his way down her chin, along her neck, down to her shoulders. He sucked a nipple into his mouth, Michael jerking underneath him, her choked-off moan reverberating through his chest. He ran his fingers along the underside of her breast, kissing his way over to scrape his teeth against her other nipple, getting a different, no-less-desperate noise in response. 

Chris flashed her a grin, then bent his head, kissing his way down her stomach, hands tracing over her body as he did, exploring her back, the soft underside of her arms, the back of her knee. He kissed his way to her hip, nibbling there as he tugged at her panties, Michael shifting up to let him pull them off her. He tossed them aside, then returned his mouth to her leg, trailing his way up as he moved between her legs, making space for himself. He bit at her thigh playfully, getting a laugh from Michael, looking up to meet her eyes as her smile faded, her fingers curling around the back of his neck. 

Chris held her gaze and nudged her thighs wider, something shy appearing in her expression. But she forged ahead, opening her legs for him, breathing out as he kissed her inner thighs, running soothing fingers over the tremors there. 

"Okay?" he asked, looking up at her. 

She nodded quickly.

Still, he waited, hands pausing on her thighs, sensing something.

Michael swallowed, lips quirking, almost like an apology. "It's different than I thought," she admitted. 

Chris made a considering noise. "Different how?"

She shook her head slightly, like she didn't know how to put it in words. "It's... _more_." 

He nodded, getting that. He'd felt it himself, once upon a time. "We can stop," he said, making sure to put no censure in it. "Any time you want, if it's too much—"

"No," she said quickly. "I don't—I want you." She swallowed again, yearning in her eyes. "Please." The hand curled in his hair gripped tighter, like she didn't want him to move away. 

"Okay, okay," he breathed, kissing her thigh again. "But the offer's open."

Michael nodded, relief filling her eyes. 

It turned to heat as Chris moved his fingers between her legs, trailing light touches to where she was _wet_ , dipping the tip of his finger in just the slightest bit, letting her get used to the idea. 

Michael's eyes went wide, breath catching. 

Chris scraped his teeth along her thigh, his finger circling her entrance where she was _so very wet_ , learning the shape of her, wringing more delicious soft noises from her. They tingled at the base of his cock; he couldn't wait to find out what she sounded like when she came. 

He left his finger there, just inside her, and leaned up to meet her eyes. "Have you ever had an orgasm?" he asked, keeping his voice compassionate, no judgment here. 

Michael swallowed and nodded. Chris nodded back, inexplicably glad for that. At least she'd had _some_ pleasure in her life, even if not from someone else. 

Michael opened her mouth to say something, then seemed to reconsider. 

Chris rested his chin on her thigh, nudging her. "It's okay, Michael." 

She breathed out, sharp. "You don't have to—I tore my hymen in _suus mahna_ training when I was thirteen." 

Chris blinked, not expecting that at _all_. "Well, that's...clinical," he managed. 

Michael huffed out a laugh, running a shaky hand over her mouth. "What I mean is—you won't—you won't hurt me."

 _There are lots of ways to hurt someone_ floated through his head, but Chris didn't voice it, simply nodding. "Good to know."

With that, he pressed a second finger to her entrance and pushed both in deep, Michael gasping in pleasure. He used his other hand to spread her slick folds, moving his mouth there, licking from her entrance up to her clit and circling, slowly. 

Her choked-off sob was a thing of beauty, Chris settling in to flutter his tongue over her, his fingers pumping into her rhythmically, her inner walls already fluttering around them. Chris forced himself not to imagine what that would feel like around his cock, focusing on what he was doing, which ways his tongue made her gasp the loudest, the iron grip of her hand in his hair, the way her hips moved against him, seeking more. 

As her noises got more urgent, he realized he wanted to _see_ this. 

So he pulled his mouth away, kissing his way up her body, tasting the tang of sweat that had sprung up everywhere. His fingers worked her, his thumb nudging just under her clit, eliciting a full-body shudder. 

Chris found her mouth, kissing her deeply, Michael making a startled noise, tongue swiping over his, tasting herself. He pulled out of the kiss to take her in, eyes dilated and glazed, lips puffy, breath coming in gasps as her hips moved in counterpoint to his fingers, hands digging into his shoulders, desperate for more. 

He curled his fingers inside her, rubbing at her G-spot, Michael mewling helplessly, fluttering around his fingers. 

Chris smiled against her mouth, staying a hair's breadth away, drinking her in. "God bless the G-spot," he mused, rubbing at the rough spot inside her, getting more full-body shudders. 

"That's a—the G-spot is a myth," she panted against his mouth, eyes closing helplessly. 

He pressed his fingers more firmly, making her cry out. "That feel like a myth to you?"

"It's just—it's just the clitoris," she managed, biting at his chin as she groaned. "It wraps all the way around. It's just..." She trailed off as she made a high noise, overcome, sweat making her glow. 

"Excellent reminder," he said, flicking his thumb _up_ —

And that was _it_ , every muscle contracting as she came, internal walls clamping tight around his fingers as he worked her through it. Chris pulled back to watch her face, expression gone mindless with pleasure, sending a bolt of lightning through him, straight to his pulsing cock. Surprisingly, she went quiet, ragged gasps the only sound she made as her hips jerked against his hand, slowing as the orgasm wound down. 

Chris ignored his own arousal and gentled his hand, leaning down to kiss her, soft, coaxing. Michael didn't respond at first, still lost to it, but eventually made a weak noise against his mouth, kissing back, almost dreamlike. 

After another few moments, he pulled his fingers out of her, clocking her soft breath _out_ at the feeling. Then he wrapped his arms around her and gathered her close, keeping her away from his straining cock, lying back on the bed, boneless. He stroked random patterns over her skin and waited for her to come back online. Even as he touched her, all he could think was...he was inordinately glad he got to _see_ that. 

Eventually, her breath evened out, Michael tipping her head back to look up at him, fingers going to his mouth. 

He kissed them, then smiled. "You back with us?" 

"Nominally," she said, voice husky. 

He laughed. "If you're using words like that, I'll take it as a yes. Congratulations, you just had your first partnered orgasm. How do you feel?"

"Much praise. No complaints."

Chris laughed again, charmed that she remembered. "Glad to hear my record is safe."

"For now," she said, prim. 

"Them's fighting words," he shot back, leaning down for a kiss, Michael framing his face and kissing him back, lips clinging. 

She pulled back, scratching blunt nails over his jaw, an air of curiosity coming over her. "That was...fingering?"

"With a soupcon of oral," he agreed, kissing the tip of her nose, then propping himself on an elbow, watching her, relaxed against the blue duvet underneath her. 

"...oh," she said, quiet. Thinking. 

"Not what you expected?" he guessed.

Michael breathed in, refocusing on him, pressing a hand to his chest, tracing her fingers there aimlessly. "People talk about it like a joke."

He shrugged. "People talk about a lot of sex like a joke."

She frowned. "Why?"

Chris sighed, considering. "It's a fair question. I'd guess that the intimacy of it makes some people uncomfortable; joking is a way to maintain distance. With fingering specifically, there's also probably a bit of leftover misogyny from the days when women's pleasure was taken less seriously. But everyone's different; it depends on the person and the context."

She nodded, but the furrow didn't disappear from her brow. "It would be easier if human social interaction was _less_ contextual."

"Wouldn't it, though?" he agreed with a smile, getting a smile in return. 

She ran her hand up his chest, around his neck, and pulled him down into a kiss, Chris smiling into it, loving that she had so embraced what she once thought pointless. 

He curled over her, Michael shifting against him, her body unexpectedly brushing against his mind-numbingly hard cock, _Jesus Christ_. Chris broke away with a gasp, scooting back, even just that too much. 

Part of him was very determinedly not analyzing how _much_ this all was. 

Michael blinked at him, dropping her eyes, taking in the erection clearly outlined by his underwear. "You're still wearing clothes," she said with a whiff of accusation. 

"I got a little distracted."

Her fingers plucked at the material covering his thigh, thankfully steering clear of his cock. "Off," she ordered. 

Chris laughed, then saluted lazily. "Aye, ma'am." He shifted away, carefully running a hand under his boxer-briefs, tugging them away from his cock, gasping, pleasure sliding down his spine at the feeling of it being released from its confines. 

Next to him, Michael watched, eyes rapt, her attention somehow making this hotter. 

He eased his boxer-briefs off, rolling them down his thighs and then kicking them off, his cock thick and hard against his belly. Jesus, he hadn't been this hard, for this long, in a while. 

Michael scooted closer, eyes roaming over him like a physical caress. She looked from his cock, to his face, and back again, resting a hand on his abs, the pads of her fingers tingling against his skin. "Can I?" She nodded to his cock, hesitant. 

He smiled, running his fingers along her perfect jaw, admiring. "Of course," he said, quiet. 

She took a breath, sliding her hand down his stomach to his cock, running a finger lightly down its length. It _twitched_ , sensation careening through him, even as Michael stilled and pulled her hand back. She looked up to his face, a shade of concern there, melting away at whatever she saw in his expression. "That's...good?"

Chris breathed out, sharp. "Understatement."

So she touched him again, soft, fingers curling around him, his cock twitching again in that loose grip. Chris panted, ragged, nearly undone by the soft exploration, wondering how the hell he was going to manage being inside her. 

"It's very responsive," she mused, sitting up and throwing a leg over his thighs, studying him from this angle, her hand moving over him, still loose. 

He grunted when she got to the tip, rotating her wrist, a flash of white _flaring_ behind his eyes. He grabbed for her wrist, stilling her movements, soft though they were. "Hang on," he gritted out, his control cracking. 

"My research said the head is the most sensitive part," she offered, studying him. 

Chris huffed a broken laugh. God, her _research_. "It ain't wrong."

She pulled her hand back, eyes darting from his cock to his face again. "Did that...hurt?" she asked in concern. 

Chris panted, trying not to focus on a naked Michael perched over him, still glowing, breasts moving as she breathed, his very hard cock pulsing in the air between them. He didn't think he could come from just an image, but he also didn't want to test it. 

"No, it didn't hurt," he reassured her after a moment, reining himself in. "Just don't want this to be over too soon."

Her concern subsided, eyes moving to his cock again. She bit her lip and looked back up at him, sending an unexpected burst of _heat_ through him. "Do you want to have sex now?" she asked, halting, for a new reason. 

"You see how it's limiting," he said, nodding to his cock. "Sex doesn't just involve this. We've been having sex for the last half-hour."

Michael nodded. "This is why the hostess asked. There are many kinds of sex." She tilted her head. "Do you want to have penetrative vaginal sex now?"

Chris laughed again and sat up. "Yes, please," he murmured, leaning over to kiss her. 

Michael opened her mouth to his, _hmming_ into the kiss, brushing her tongue against his, sensation spreading from there down his spine to his neglected cock. 

He pulled back, watching her fondly. "Any requests for how you want that penetrative vaginal sex?" he asked, light. 

She looked down at his cock, then back up again, eyes widening. "...no?" Then she hesitated. "Should I?"

Chris smiled in reassurance, stroking her cheek. She leaned into the touch, eyes fluttering. "No," he said, voice lowering. "If it's okay with you, I think you should lie back."

Oddly, she grinned. Then she rolled onto her back, hands behind her head, body loose, welcoming. "Lie back and think of England?" she asked, cheeky. 

He laughed, rolling onto his side, resting a hand on her stomach, stroking lightly. "That's ancient. Where'd you hear it?"

"My first week on the _Shenzhou,_ regarding a full sensor array audit. I was quite confused," she said, a sparkle in her eyes. 

"I imagine that was an enlightening bit of research."

"Indeed. It was also my introduction to how much sexual slang people use in casual conversation. In this case to mean something unpleasant?" she asked, a deeper question there. 

Chris moved from his side to in between her thighs, running his hand up her sternum to cover a breast, toying with her nipple, eliciting a gasp. He gestured to their position—her lying on her back, him between her thighs. "This is missionary."

"Also used as a euphemism for boring," she said, that question still in her eyes. 

He nodded, resting his chin on her stomach. "It's the classic sexual position, derided because it's so commonplace. Like any sex, it can be unpleasant or boring if you're doing it wrong, but it's also the one you're most likely to encounter in your sex life. I think it's ideal here because you don't need to do much, just enjoy the experience. But if you're not into it, we can switch it up."

Michael relaxed a little, the question fading from her eyes. "I trust you."

That _hit_ him, a pure faith he could _see_ , nothing he expected. Chris' throat tightened. He swallowed against it, meeting her eyes. "I want you to tell me if you don't like something I do," he said, insistent. "You should always enjoy it." 

She stroked her fingers over his forehead, brushing a lock of hair away. "I'll tell you."

"Good," he rumbled, shifting up and dropping a kiss to her sternum, his hand sliding down her body, between her thighs, pressing against her entrance where she was still so _wet_. 

Michael looked down, frowning a little. "...what?" 

"I'm just checking," he soothed, slipping his fingers inside her the barest hint, a tease. "Want to make sure you're wet enough."

Michael made a wanting noise deep in her throat, eyes fluttering closed as her hips moved against him. "I'm...really very wet."

Chris laughed, pulling his fingers from her. "The wonders of foreplay," he said, leaning up, his cock bobbing between them. He grasped it, gritting his teeth against the pleasure spiraling outward from his touch, controlling himself. It wouldn't do to come as soon as he slid inside her. 

Michael's eyes were intent on his hand, but where before she'd been shy about spreading herself open for him, now she just seemed anticipatory. 

Satisfaction slid through him at that, Chris shifting into position, pressing his cock against her entrance and holding there, meeting her eyes. He bent down for a kiss, then pulled away again. "Ready?"

"Yeah," she whispered. 

Chris took another beat just in case, then thrust forward, cock sinking into her in one smooth motion, Michael's head snapping back as she cried out in pleasure. He dropped his mouth to her neck, the _heat_ and _wet_ and _tight_ slamming into him as he bottomed out, feeling it as her body adjusted to him, Chris hanging onto his control by a thread.

He held still, resisting all the instincts that told him to _move_ , raising his head to meet Michael's eyes, checking on her. "You okay?" he asked, his voice like sandpaper. 

Michael mewled and gripped his arms, gasping out, "More," like it was all she could _think_. 

Chris withdrew and thrust back into her before he consciously thought about it, both of them crying out at the pleasure of it, Chris drunk on the rush of lightning up his spine. He did it again, drawing more sounds from her, bracing himself on an elbow as he set up a rhythm, each thrust increasing in intensity until the whole bed was shaking, headboard slapping against the wall, the oldest cliché. 

He ignored it, finding Michael's mouth as he fucked her, pleasure suffusing everything, stealing all thought. He grabbed her leg and slung it over his hip, twisting as he sank _in_ , and she actually _sobbed_ into his mouth, keening, " _Right there, right there_ ," as her hands gripped him with bruising force. 

Chris didn't need any more encouragement than that. He kept it up, feeling the telltale tingling start at the base of his spine, knowing he was not going to last.

He shoved his free hand between them, fingers finding her clit again, playing over it delicately, and Michael choked out a broken, " _Chris_ ," that went straight to his balls as her body tightened everywhere, her internal muscles fluttering around him as she shuddered through her orgasm, silent and breathless. 

It kicked Chris over the edge, his rhythm stuttering as his own orgasm flashed white and hot behind his eyes, hips jerking as pleasure bowled him over. 

When he came back to himself, he was still braced over Michael—thank god, he wasn't crushing her—panting and sweaty, heart pounding in his ears. Michael was wrapped around him, though her hands had softened, her hitching breaths loud in the silence, face turned away. Her body still fluttered around him, slowing as she came down. 

Chris leaned down to nuzzle at her jaw, trying to draw her back. 

She breathed in deep, once, turning her head, eyes still glazed, but some awareness returning. She swallowed, thick, rousing herself. " _That_ is a euphemism for boring?"

Chris laughed, kissing her in delight, reveling in how she kissed back, mouth lush, open to him. 

But eventually, physical realities took precedence. Chris pulled her leg from around him as he withdrew from her body, Michael sighing at the loss. 

He flopped down to the bed beside her, curling close, slinging an arm over her. "Cuddling," he explained, straight-up. "Not everyone likes it, but I do." He yawned. "Tell me if you don't."

Michael made a content noise and nuzzled into his chest, so he took that as his answer and let himself drift, sleepy and sated. 

Sometime later, Michael breathed in, _sharp_ , looking down at her body. 

Oh, right. Chris kissed her, then pulled himself away, standing. "Stay right there."

He moved into the lavatory, grabbing a clean cloth, and soaking it in warm water. He cleaned himself up, then moved back to the bedroom, where Michael was exactly as he'd left her. 

Chris climbed over to her, pressing the cloth between her legs, Michael startling at the touch, though not in a bad way. "I hear it's a weird feeling, come dropping out of you," he sympathized, cleaning her gently. 

"Yes," she agreed, running her hand up his arm to his chest, leaning in for a kiss. 

Chris dropped the cloth to the side of the bed and sank into her, trading lazy kisses like they had all the time in the world. 

Eventually she pulled back, smiling a little, before looking around the room. "My research, it said—professionals leave, after," she said, cautious. 

Chris got what she was trying to say, quirking a smile at her. "Well, as we established, I am no professional. And I want you to stay. Come on. Get under," he said, tugging at the blue duvet underneath her. 

They maneuvered themselves into bed, Michael tentatively scooting toward him. Chris reached out and pulled her in, settling her against his chest, liking the feel of her naked against him. 

He stroked an idle hand down her back, marveling at her silky skin. She rumbled something pleased, kissing his chest, and he smiled. "So how was your first penetrative vaginal sex?" he teased, light. 

She looked up at him, her smile unimpressed. "You need more positive feedback?"

"Oh, yeah, I after-action that shit. Keeps me on my game."

Michael laughed, a sparkle in her eyes. "It was neither boring nor unpleasant."

"High praise," he deadpanned, leaning down to kiss her forehead. 

She settled into him with a content sigh. Chris stroked over her back, listening to her breathe, an overwhelming sense of peace descending on him. 

Eventually, she stirred, looking up at him. "Can I ask something?" Chris made an indulgent noise, so she continued: "Your friends brought you to a brothel to celebrate, but the Commodore implied it was well-known you didn't partake."

"The piece you're missing there is that Leland is an actual jackass," he said, smiling to soften the words, though the characterization wasn't entirely unwarranted. "They already made captain and their joke to me is that once I do, fraternization rules means it's all professionals from there on out."

"Even though you don't engage professionals," she said, musing. "It seems mean-spirited. Implying you'll always be alone."

Chris winced at how on-target she was there. Then he shrugged. "Some guys are like that. Friendly ribbing."

Michael nodded, but the furrow in her brow had appeared again. She sat up, looking down at him. "That's what you were celebrating? Your promotion to captain?" 

He nodded, still not quite believing it himself. 

"Congratulations," she said, soft, genuine. "Where will you be stationed?"

"The _Enterprise_ ," he said, equally soft. 

Michael blinked. "So a low-profile job, then."

Chris quirked a smile. "I know, I keep waiting for them to realize they've made a terrible mistake."

Michael studied him, smiling a little. "I don't think so. And I don't think you need to confine yourself to professionals. From what I understand, Starfleet simply wants to ensure that there is no abuse of power. I trust you can navigate such things."

"Everyone watches the captain of the _Enterprise_ ," he said, a little hesitant himself now. Still not fully reconciled with this new profile, with what it would require of him. Robert had once told him command was the loneliest job in the world. He could admit it daunted him. 

Michael reached out, fingers tracing the lines just starting to form at the corner of his eye. He was getting old. She smiled a little. "Let them. You'll rise to the occasion."

Chris blinked at her, surprised once again by the _faith_ she had in him, after knowing him only a few hours. "I appreciate that," he finally said, lifting her hand and bringing it to his mouth, kissing her lightly. "This helped."

Her smile deepened. "Yes, at the very least, you'll always have wayward virgins in brothel bars."

"A very specific cohort," he agreed. 

She flashed a grin, then leaned down to meet his mouth, the kiss lingering. Eventually she pulled back, staying close. "Thank you for this. I don't think a professional would have been what I needed." 

Chris smiled and brushed his fingers over her cheek, down to her chin. "You can tell Pippa she was right. Someone you like," he said, a little hopeful. 

"Yeah. Someone I like," she agreed, leaning down for another kiss. 

It was enough. 

***

Fin. Feedback is adored.


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